Roadside Tales
by Stray Sentinel
Summary: Not all of us are heroes, but some of us have our own tales to tell. Side stories to 'Broken Road' I suggest you read it first. There will be spoilers.
1. Snapshot One: Why Don't We?

Warning: Rated for violence and language, includes Femslash and Slash.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's canon characters. I do not own any of the music listed in the Playlist Pick. All OC are my own.

Author's Playlist Pick:

_For those of you who may not like 50's music, I'm also going to include a modern 'soundtrack'._

Putting on the Ritz - Taco

Why Don't We Just Dance? -Josh Turner

Chapter One:

Why Don't We?

Connie crept into the library, keeping a cautious eye out for the Overseer. The lights were dimmed, the library staff had long ago slipped off to supper, and though it wasn't strictly speaking forbidden to visit at this hour, few people did. Strains of lively music curled through the shelves, the trills of a woodwind and soaring notes of a violin leading Connie to an open area in the shelves, a circle of overstuffed armchairs on a worn-to-colorless rope rug. Amata sat curled in one of the chairs, her dark head bent over a large tome, the glow of her Pip-Boy throwing dramatic shadows across her face. Her Pip-boy was playing the song. Connie smiled faintly; her friend was getting good use out of her most recent birthday present – an added program that allowed her to hack and download music from the library computers. Amata was completely absorbed in her book, and didn't hear Connie approach. The redhead smirked and knelt, crossing her arms on the armrest and her chin on her arms.

"What song is that?"

Amata jumped and looked at her with distant eyes, still lost in labyrinths of ink and paper. "Brandenburg Concerto, Sebastian Bach … number five, I think." Then she returned to her book.

Connie picked up a book from the stack on the table at Amata's elbow._ The Prince, Discourses on Livey, A History of Napoleon... _She had to admit she was a little miffed at being ignored, even if she knew it was important that Amata learn this stuff. Connie leaned over to check the cover of Amata's book. _…The Art of War._

"Should I be worried?" The corners of her lips twitched.

The other girl sighed and rubbed her temples. "A good way to know how to lead it to know how _not_ to do it." Connie made a face – that was Amata's 'I'm quoting my father' voice. She didn't understand why the fourteen-year-old had to grow up so soon. Connie slid to the floor and settled on the floor, allowing her head to loll against the arm. The younger girl's hand snaked down and threaded through her hair, soothing Connie into a sleepy daze. The Pip-boy flashed, and another song came on, filling the library with jovial trumpets.

_All misfits… putting on the Ritz!_

Amata's hand twitched. "Hey, Connie?"

"Hm?"

"Do you know how to dance?"

"Not really."

"…Wanna learn how?"

Connie grinned. "Sure."

Amata tugged her to her feet and started trying to teach her a quickstep –admittedly not the best dance to teach a beginner, but neither really cared. The 'serious' instruction quickly dissolved into buffoonery – Connie dancing balanced on her hands, occasionally smirking at her darker companion, who lacked the balance for such things. Amata degenerating into an exaggerated cabbage patch dance number. When they finally collapsed on the chill concrete floor, exhausted, but laughing, for the moment they were children. For the moment.

Author's note:

Sorry the chapter for Broken Road is coming so slowly guys. It's actually almost done, but I'm stuck on the last bit. Hopefully I'll be done soon. Until then, I've decided to start a place to post little tidbits that never make it into the main story. It will also have shorts centered around the people of Vault 101 as well as my various OC's. Tell me if you think it's a good idea, ok? ^^


	2. Snapshot Two: Reach

**Warning: Rated for violence and language, includes Femslash and Slash.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's canon characters. I do not own any of the music listed in the Playlist Pick. All OC are my own.

Author's Playlist Pick:

_For those of you who may not like 50's music, I'm also going to include a modern 'soundtrack'._

She - Charles Aznavour

Honey and the Bee - Owl city

**Snapshot Two:**

**Reach**

* * *

><p>…<em>Their heart rate can reach as high as 1,260 beats per minute…<em>

Connie's eyes were fixed on the screen in front of her, absorbed in her documentary and completely unaware of what was going on around her. She was mesmerized.

The little birds flitting around on the screen were long dead, their world turned to ash. Yet here they were, these darting, glittering things, preserved on film so that future generations could mourn what their ancestors had foolishly destroyed. The narrator's voice droned on dully in the background.

…_the coloring does not come from pigmentation in the feather structure, but instead from prism-like cells within the top layers of the feathers…_

Connie sighed and adjusted the headphones over her ears. She wasn't sure why she dug through these old films. Maybe because it was a little sad… all those dusty boxes in their neat, untouched rows. Like ignoring them made the past disappear. The bitter taste in her mouth when she watched them was almost worth it, as if she found bits and pieces of herself in this world that was no more. That and these birds held her attention. There was just something about that swift, darting movement, the way they hung suspended in midair almost like magic.

Someone tugged her headphones from her ears as a pair of soft, warm hands slipped over her eyes, followed by a mischievously low purr that sent a pleasant shiver up Connie's spine. "Guess who?"

"I'm sorry, Mister Overseer! I'll make sure not to bother your daughter again!" Connie moaned melodramatically, recovering quickly.

"And how'd you know it was me?"

Connie withheld a smirk. She knew it was Amata the moment those hands touched her skin. She didn't even need a second glance to be sure, not that she could see much of anything with those soft fingers gently pressing below her brow anyway. She just… knew. And she also knew the best way to push her old friend's buttons, and she took advantage of this knowledge whenever and wherever she possibly could. "I'm psychic."

Amata huffed, removing her hands from the girl's eyes before dropping into the chair behind her. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'm just too obvious."

"Maybe." Connie smirked to herself as she continued watching the hummingbirds dance amongst the treetops. _I think I'll name that sparkly one Amata, and the one next to her will be me. The fat one can be Butch._ She sniggered at the thought.

"You really can't help yourself can you?"

"Can't help myself what?" She murmured innocently.

Amata sighed, reaching forward to pinch a vulnerable shoulder. "Sitting on the floor like this. Are the chairs really that uncomfortable?"

Connie leaned her head back until it rested against the seat of Amata's chair, giving her friend an unrepentant upside-down smile from between the other's thighs. She sat cross-legged on the floor within a few inches of the plush emerald green chair behind her, the one that she should have occupied but was far happier to have Amata sit in instead. "It'd be way less fun if it didn't bother you so much." Her smile grew.

Amata rolled her eyes and ran her hand through Connie's hair, purposely ruffling it into disarray. "Contrary thing." If she was trying to chastise, her faint smile ruined it.

Connie giggled, tilting her head slightly to one side to rest her cheek against Amata's hand. It was odd, she pondered to herself as she gazed up at the other girl, how much Amata reminded her of a hummingbird. Sometimes she almost couldn't take her eyes off of her. When she watched her, there was this soft warmth in her chest, an odd, trembling feeling. Like the hum of a hummingbird's wings.


	3. Snapshot Three: PDA

**Warning: Rated for violence and language, includes Femslash and Slash.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's canon characters. I do not own any of the music listed in the Playlist Pick. All OC are my own.

A/N: Hey Everyone! This is a contribution by the awesomesauce 1Past and Present1. Thanks for all your help. ^^ (Be sure to tell her so, y'all, PnP's two thirds of the reason you get chapters at all. :D )

**Snapshot Three:**

**PDA**

* * *

><p>Amata felt the smallest hint of a blush creeping in. "Connie, please, you're embarrassing me!"<p>

"What? What am I doing that's so embarrassing?" Dark eyes narrowed playfully.

"This," the younger of the two whispered loudly, slapping the strong arm that was slung familiarly over her shoulders, allowing long, gentle fingers to play with the loose strands of Amata's hair. "Stop it."

"Why? We always do stuff like this. It's our thing."

"You're doing it to piss him off."

"Who?" was the typically dumb answer, pretending not to notice the clearly obvious.

"My _father_!" Amata almost yelled.

"Oh." Connie raised a brow, not bothered in the slightest and feigning innocence. "The old man watching?"

"Of course he's watching."

"So?"

The future Overseer sighed. "He already wants me to stop seeing you. Acting like this just isn't helping."

"You mean I'm forbidden to openly show my affection for you in public?" the dark girl murmured in her old friend's ear while the current Overseer watched from across the cafeteria, silently fuming. "Sorry, but screw that. If I want to hug you, I'll damn well hug you, and I don't care who's eyeballing us." She squeezed the other for emphasis and then turned her head to actually pull a tongue in the Overseer's direction. "Nah."

Amata found her anger diminishing and she giggled at her father's expense. "You're so naughty!"

"Yep."

"You really feel so adamantly about it?"

The smile she received was, in one word, charming. "What does 'adamant' mean?"

She leant over to deposit a soft kiss on Connie's cheek. "You are so cute sometimes. I just can't stay mad at you."

The other girl was the one to blush this time, and her smile grew considerably.


End file.
